1. Policewomen: Trina's Inferno


    Date: 8/11/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Bondage and restriction, Cruelty, Death, Extreme, Horror, Male Domination, Murder, Non-consensual sex, Rape, Snuff, Torture, Violence, Voyeurism, Author: tw_holt, Rating: 82.4, Source: sexstories.com

    man out. She cursed herself for not tying him up, but had nothing to do it with. Not wanting to make that mistake again, she tied the wrists and feet of man outside the door. She bent his legs and arms back and tied his wrists to his ankles. Heresy Trina kept moving down the hallway, coming to another door on her left. She listened against it – nothing. She quickly opened it, ducking to the side, peeping in, seeing no one. It wasn’t completely dark; a small desk with a lamp was in the corner. But there were other things in the room too. Trina saw large, rectangular objects, five of them, lining the walls. They were coffins. Her eyes widen, always checking behind her, she quickly moved to the nearest one, opening it. There was a woman, nude, beaten, tied up, mouth taped shut. Trina hurriedly freed her. “Thank you! Thank you!” the woman cried, just above a whisper. “They said we didn’t believe them.” “Didn’t believe who?” Trina asked, helping another woman out of a coffin. “Our men. We were abducted, beaten, and brought here. They said we were guilty of not believing our husbands loved us, not realizing how good we had it.” “Go, down the hall, quickly. Help her,” Trina said, handing another woman to the first woman she freed. Trina watched them make their way down the hall, wincing in pain, when she inhaled too deeply. She had to keep going. Sounds of cheering took her by surprise. She heard a man’s voice, followed by a few women, cheering, egging someone on. Creeping down ...
    the hall, the sounds got louder. She could make out what they were yelling. “Fight! Fight! Fight!” several people were chanting. Violence Trina listened at the door where she heard the chanting. From what she could tell, the room sounded large, the chants echoing off walls. Then she heard a gunshot, then silence. “I need that shotgun,” she whispered. Finding the empty gun, thinking she could use it to trick anyone into thinking it was loaded, probably like the oaf that knocked her out did, she went back to the larger room. Slowly opening the door she saw a very well light room. Trina peeped in. It looked more like a warehouse, not a makeshift corridor of low-lit rooms. She wondered why whoever converted this abandoned building for their perverse needs left this area alone. Trina soon found out why. It was being used as a fighting arena. She saw several dead bodies strewn about. She saw a man drag away the latest victim. “That’s what happens when you refuse to fight. Fight or die!” a man said. He was carrying a nine millimeter handgun. “Who’s next?” “You?” he pointed a gun at one of the women crouching in the corner, she stood and nodded her head. “Good! That’s one fighter. Who will fight her? Fight or die,” he said scanning the room for another woman, an opponent for the first. The man was huge and muscular, wearing a tight t-shirt, cargo pants, and boots. He reminded Trina of a drill sergeant from her police academy days. “You?” he asked another woman, she shook her head. He ...
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